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“You went out of your way to hunt me down here. What is it that you want?” I demand. Being near her makes me feel hot, prickly, and uncomfortable and I want to get this over with as soon as possible.
“I want nothing more than to see you. I just want a relationship with my son.” She’s doing the big wide-eyed hurt look.
I glance around in annoyance and then focus on her. “Did you want a relationship with me when I was in grade school, when I was in high school, when you never came to visit on birthdays or Christmas, when you didn’t come to a single one of my games?”
She actually manages to squeeze out a tear or two, blinking hard. Of course, her mascara and eyeliner are waterproof. She came prepared.
“Your father wouldn’t let me anywhere near you,” she sniffles. “He had a whole big law firm on his payroll and he used to threaten me when I tried to come visit. He said he’d have me thrown in prison. I couldn’t afford to fight him, much as I wanted to. He told me you didn’t want to see me, and after a while I just gave up.”
A small explosion of rage detonates inside me.
“Bullshit.”
She gasps in outrage. “You don’t get to talk to your mother like that.”
Years of hurt, of wondering what was so wrong with me that my own mother didn’t want me, boil up inside me. “If I had a mother, I wouldn’t talk to her like that,” I snap.
She does another gasp—but doesn’t budge.
“Do you think I have amnesia or something? You left my dad and you left me. He didn’t make you go. I was there when you would come and visit, and I could hear you guys talking. I heard my father yelling at you for never visiting, and you coming up with bullshit excuses about how busy you were, about how you couldn’t afford a plane ticket—”
“I couldn’t,” she interrupted.
“That’s the complete opposite of what you just claimed.” I’m so frustrated I want to kick holes in the wall. The gaslighting with this one. “You said he wouldn’t let you see me. That is a lie. You always had the option to visit; you just chose not to. I heard him tell you to act like a mother and come see your son if you wanted any child support.”
“I know he’s turned you against me,” she says sadly, her eyes going waif-big. “I still love you no matter what. No matter what he’s made you think about me.”
“Fuck this,” I snarl, and I turn and storm off down the hallway.
She runs after me. “Wait, wait,” She cries so loudly that several people stop to stare. I slow down and keep walking until there’s nobody near us.
I spin around and glare at her. “Do not try to gaslight me,” I snap. “Do not sit here, look me in the face, and lie about what you actually did. Do not try to put the blame on my father, and do not try to make me think that I am stupid or crazy for remembering what actually happened.”
She blinks hard several times. Her gaze drops to the floor. Her shoulders slump. She is about to move on to a new tactic.
“I’m very sorry,” she says quietly. “I was young and immature when I met your father. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, and I knew I was leaving you with a wonderful man.”
“A wonderful man who threatened to throw you in prison if you tried to visit me?” I scoff. “Admit that was a lie, or I’m out of here.”
“I ... I was ashamed. I am ashamed. I should have been there for you.” She’s shrinking in on herself, going all meek and pathetic. “I would give anything to have those years back, to do things differently.”
No, she would have done things exactly the same. She just didn’t want to be a mother. But if she didn’t want to be my mother, she should have just stayed away. Instead, greed brought her back again and again, getting my hopes up and then breaking my little heart.
Well, I was long past over it.
“I no longer care,” I inform her. “I did then. I don’t now. Don’t come to any of my events again.”
She heaves a huge, trembling sigh and reaches into her purse. She pulls it out and hands me a piece of paper. “This is my hotel room. I’m not staying in town much longer. Please call me or come visit me, even just once. I’d like to buy my boy dinner.”
I grit my teeth at the phrasemy boy.
“No, thank you,” I say, and I turn and walk back towards the lobby quickly.
“I love you, honey. I miss you,” she calls out loudly, and I know that’s deliberate. She loves attention, and she’s also being spiteful since she’s not getting what she wants from me.
Rowan is waiting for me in the lobby. She leads me over to a side area, and we duck behind another painted screen.
“Sorry that happened. Can I do anything for you?” she asks, tilting her face to look up at me. “Like, do you want me to just sit there with you, and not say anything? Do you want to talk? There’s an axe playing place downtown—you could get some aggression out.”
